On Midsummer’s Morn, the maidens come from far and wide, eager to find a husband.
A simple task, you might think. All a girl needs to do to win is walk a thousand barefoot paces to the cathedral on the top of the hill and claim her man.
But she had better not walk.
She had better pick up her skirts, free her legs and run. Just as fast as she can.
Because she won’t be alone for long. The goblins have her scent.
The climb is deceptive. It is not steep, but it is continuous, unrelenting.
If she tries to hurry, her feet become like lead weights.
But goblins, on the other hand, goblins can go long distances without tiring.
They can do a lot of things without tiring.
Suddenly it is too hard to keep moving, and it starts to seem like it might be easier just to surrender to the inevitable.
And then they catch her.
Goblins are not strong. They cannot fight. They never attack.
They simply stand and watch, and wait for their prey to weaken.
Because their musk has the most profound effect.
She cannot help it. She cannot resist it.
This is the trap of the Goblin Run.
Because the goblins have her scent, and if she gets even a hint of theirs, she will be lost.
And then she won’t find a husband.
Instead she’ll find a mate…
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